


Walking Shadow

by tianaluthien



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Brothers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Starfrost: A Jane/Loki Fic Exchange, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 09:47:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1814071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tianaluthien/pseuds/tianaluthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-TDW. Plague is sweeping through Asgard and no one is immune.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Shadow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thinkatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/gifts).



  
_This life, which had been the tomb of his virtue and of his honour, is but a walking shadow; a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing._ ~Macbeth

The cries of the sick and dying reached even to Asgard’s citadel, and the rotting stench of death was everywhere. It made her sick to her stomach because it smelled all too familiar, bringing back memories of days spent in the hospital when her mother was dying. The setting was different, the technology more advanced, but the comforting platitudes murmured to the relatives of the dying were the same. There was talk of finding a cure, whispers that the healers in the citadel were hard at work, but they were only that: whispers. Neither Odin nor the healers nor anyone else was even remotely close to finding a cure. No one was immune (except her, apparently – human physiology being just different enough, much to Thor’s relief) and yet day after day Thor and Sif and the Warriors Three ventured into the city to help collect the dead.

She hated watching him leave, never knowing if today would be the last day she would see him. She hated that he left her behind. She hated watching him grow distant as he threw himself into caring for his people. 

_“We’re from separate worlds. Perhaps they were separate for a reason.”_

She hated the thought, but she had nothing to fight it with and it left her feeling cold.

She hated illness. She hated it because she was powerless against it. It was one reason, though not the main one, she had not gone into medicine. Stars and constellations were fascinating and beautiful and they didn’t break your heart when they died.

She had taken to spending her days in the library, hoping that perhaps one of the history books would shed some light on the plague that had sprung up, seemingly from nowhere. Odin had been able to tell them nothing when he summoned them back and seemed strangely uneasy. 

She had also taken to watching him.

She remembered meeting Odin the first time around and had classed him as a first-class asshole, an opinion that hadn’t changed. 

Except that this wasn’t Odin. 

She might not be a doctor but she was still a scientist, trained to notice anomalies and look for things that others didn’t see, and after observing “Odin” for the past week she was positive it wasn’t him. 

Which left only one possibility.

She waited until Thor had gone into the city before approaching “Odin” as he left the throne room. 

For an old man, he was pretty sprightly.

“Loki.”

The old man in front of her paused. “Do not speak my son’s name to me.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m the goat at the banquet, I know. But it _is_ your name, isn’t it?”

He turned, the one eye weighing, measuring her. He looked tired and tightly wound – even for him. He jerked his head in the direction he’d been moving. “Come with me, goat.”

Jane grimaced. _Right. You walked into that one, Foster._

Odin-Loki led her through darkened halls, twisting and turning until the corridors began to look familiar. They rounded another corner and turned down a hallway tapestried in vivid, emerald green, the heavy cloth shimmering with each breath of air. There were no epic battles depicted here, only silver rune symbols and, here and there, a raven. She wished she could stop and read them, discover what stories they told.

“Well?” said the so-called king, standing before an open door.

Shaking herself – _Focus, Jane_ – she ran forward and followed him through the door. Under normal circumstances she might have muttered some sarcastic retort, but right now she badly needed answers.

The door closed with a soft _click_ and when she turned, Odin was gone and Loki stood in his place. He looked much as he had the last time she’d seen him…except for the blood and the dirt and the gaping hole in his chest.

And he really looked exhausted. 

“So you know me, Jane Foster. What do you want? There’s a plague sweeping through Asgard, in case it’s escaped your notice.”

She glared at him. “I’m human, not stupid. Where’s Odin?”

The smirk that had started to appear vanished. “Your concern for his safety is touching.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I want to know where he is because I want to know if—all this—is your fau—”

She never finished the word because suddenly Loki was a handbreadth from her face and Gungnir was under chin, crushing her windpipe. 

“Say that again, Jane Foster.”

With a supreme effort, she raised her chin, trying to ease the pressure on her throat without actually stepping backwards; she was damned if she was going to give him _that_ satisfaction. Even if he did look like he was about murder her.

“Is this your fault?”

Loki laughed.

_What the hell?_

“I like you,” he said, grinning as he lowered the spear.

She slapped him. Hard. His grin only grew wider. Dammit, why was he so beautiful?

“This isn’t funny, Loki,” she snapped. “People – _your_ people – are dying.”

The grin disappeared. “Have you anything useful to say, Jane Foster, or are you merely here to lecture me as to how I should feel and act? I assure you, I have much more important things to do than listen to the bleating of Thor’s pet goat.”

In spite of her best intentions not to let him get to her, it stung – especially because ever since they’d set foot on Asgard and Thor had immersed himself in his people, she’d been feeling more and more like a _pet_ and less and less like a partner or even a lover. Not that Thor was doing it intentionally, but he didn’t seem to understand when tried to explain herself. And then she felt selfish and petulant and that really made her feel _great_.

“Bastard,” she muttered, glaring at him.

His face grew tight. “So I’ve been told.”

_Oh. Right. Open mouth insert foot._ She swatted at the sudden guilt; she would _not_ feel guilty about that crack – not after what he’d said to her – and she would _not_ murder him. Yet. She still needed him since he was the only around who might listen to Thor’s Midgardian…consort. Damn, she hated that word.

Loki was watching her, his face expressionless. “Well, Jane Foster?” 

With an effort, she pushed her feelings aside and took a deep breath. “So, all this – it’s not you? Just so we’re clear.” 

“Of course not,” he snarled. “I would never—” He broke off, muscles in his throat working.

She kept her eyes on his face; he _had_ to listen. “I have a theory.”

He raised one dark eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“I think the convergence – the one we stopped – is responsible.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. “Go on.”

“What if a virus came through from another realm? Animals were disappearing and reappearing all over the place – hell, we had a monster from Jotunheim on Earth – so if they could do that, why not something smaller? Maybe an animal was carrying it, I don’t know. But if we could isolate the virus then maybe we could figure out where it came from and find a cure from there.”

Loki stared at her, tilted his head, his face a mask. “And you trust that I had no hand in this? On my word alone?”

Thrown off-balance she blinked once and looked closely at his face. She had the oddest feeling that her answer was very, very important to him. _Why?_ “Yes.”

A sigh escaped his lips and he seemed to relax, just a little. “Then we have no time to lose.” The air shimmered and Odin stood in his place. “Come along, goat.” 

Before she could think of a suitably stinging retort he was out the door. She had just begun to follow when the crashing of bells almost knocked her off her feet. 

“ _Jane!_ ”

Loki-Odin was before her, his face white. One pale hand closed over her wrist and drew her forward, into a run.

“ _Loki_ , what—”

“You hear those bells, Jane Foster?”

“Yes,” she gasped, straining to keep up with him.

He stopped, whirled, and she slammed into his chest. Odin disappeared and she found herself staring into a pair of fathomless green eyes. “They mean that Thor is back. And far too soon.”

_Dear God, no._

They ran.

~~~

They bypassed the throne room entirely, heading straight for the healer’s wing. She’d never run so fast, hadn’t known it was possible, but with Loki holding tightly to her hand she felt as though she were flying. It was exhilarating – and yet all she could focus on was the man clutching her fingers; a man she had little reason to trust, who had done heaven-only-knew-what to his father, but who seemed as frightened as she, if not more. So she twisted her hand inside his own and curled her fingers with his and let him pull her onwards to…to…

“Where is my brother?”

His voice was quiet, cold as ice, and yet it filled the room. Everyone had stopped to stare, patients and healers alike, at the resurrected prince. 

“You _bastard_ ,” roared a voice. Volstaag. “This is your fault—I will _kill_ you—” 

He barreled down the corridor, sword drawn, murder in his gaze—

And froze, suddenly encased in ice.

“Where,” Loki repeated, and she felt him trembling, “Is. My. Brother?”

Eir stepped forward. “This way.”

Still holding tightly to her hand, Loki dragged Jane forward past the raging ice sculpture and down the corridor after Eir. As they entered the room, the tip of a sword appeared at Loki’s chest.

“I don’t know how you’ve done it, but give me one good reason why I shouldn’t run you through,” Sif hissed.

Loki took a step forward. Sif didn’t move, didn’t drop her sword. A dark stain began to spread across his emerald tunic.

“Lady Sif! There will be no bloodshed in my ward!”

“It’s not his fault,” Jane said, her eyes fixed on the growing stain, trying to stifle the scream in her throat. How hard was Sif pressing? “Please, we think we can—”

“Brother.” The voice was a bare whisper, replaced a moment later by a sickening cough. “Jane.”

Sif turned her head, her eyes suspiciously bright. “Thor—”

“Let—let him come.”

Slowly, she lowered her sword. “If you have done this, I will skin you and make you watch.”

“He didn’t,” Jane snapped.

Loki squeezed her hand. “I believe my brother would like to see me. Alive, Lady Sif, if it pleases you.”

Her eyes narrowed to slits but she stood aside, her gaze drifting down to look at Jane. For the first time, Jane felt the other woman’s dislike and she squirmed uncomfortably. 

“Brother,” Thor whispered. “Jane.”

Ashen-faced, Loki knelt beside the bed, pulling Jane down beside him; she wasn’t sure why he insisted on holding on to her, but she didn’t want him to let go. There was something comforting in being able to touch him. 

“As you see,” he said, licking his lips. “Thor, I swear—”

Thor smiled faintly and his bottom lip cracked; blood seeped out. “I know, Loki. This is not your doing.”

“You do?”

He seemed so taken aback, so desperately hopeful, it made Jane want to cry. She settled for tightening her grip on his hand.

Even ill, Thor managed to look amused, though she could not tell if he were laughing or coughing. “Th—this is—is not your style,” he wheezed.

“Thank you,” Loki replied dryly. “May I remind you, brother, that people are dying?”

Thor sobered. “I know.” He closed his swollen eyes. “Father?”

Loki hesitated. “He will not thank me, but he is well. When I returned from Svartalfheim he fell asleep. I decided he should sleep…elsewhere.”

Thor sighed and his hand twitched again, straining towards his brother. “Loki…”

Loki stared at Thor’s hand, then slowly reached out to take hold of it. “Yes?”

Thor’s fingers curled around Loki’s hand. “Find a cure, brother.”

Then he started to cough, a horrible, wet sound, and blood spurted from his mouth.

_Dear God, no._

“ _Eir!_ ”

Loki screamed her name, his arms suddenly beneath his brother’s head, lifting him so he wouldn’t choke. “ _Eir!_ ”

“Everybody _out_ ,” Eir snarled, whipping into the room. “ _Now_.”

They all left, driven out by Eir’s whirlwind. All except Loki, who remained on the bed, cradling his brother’s head in his lap, a look of horror such as Jane had never seen upon his face.

~~~

She waited for him.

She badly wanted to be _doing_ something – to be doing something somewhere far, far away from this place of death and sickness – but she had nothing to go on, nothing to work with, and she couldn’t get Loki’s face out of her mind. Thor she tried _not_ to think about, afraid she might go mad. She’d never even seen him catch a cold – or whatever the Asgardian equivalent was – and to see him like _this_ …

She paced the hallway outside the door, watching as healers came and went, taking away bloody rags and bowls full of—of something, bringing fresh cloths and water and pungent-smelling herbs. She paced and she waited and eventually went to stand at the window, staring up at the night sky. 

She didn’t know these constellations. Well, she knew a few, but nowhere near as many as she wanted to. Thor had started to teach her…

A tear slipped down her cheek, then another and another and she couldn’t find the strength to dry them.

“Jane.” There was a breath of air above her head and arms wrapped around her from behind, drawing her close, and it felt so natural she didn’t bother to question it. “Why are you still here?”

She sniffed. “I was waiting for you.”

His arms moved, he took her by the shoulders and turned her around. His eyes were shining, his face too pale; she felt the trembling in his hands. “Why?” he asked, his voice soft.

_Why, indeed?_ She hadn’t thought too carefully about that but, once again, she had the feeling that her answer was important, so she chose her words carefully. “Because you needed someone to be here.” She forced a smile. “Someone who doesn’t want to kill you.”

That made him laugh. “Don’t you, Jane Foster?”

“Not at the moment.”

He laughed again, though it sounded hoarse and bitter. “I like you,” he whispered. Then he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers: she tasted ice and fire, fear and longing, and then he pulled away, his hands sliding down her arms. “Good night, Jane.”

~~~

Loki had spoken to Eir about what Jane had proposed and the next thing she knew she was in the library, searching through tomes and holographic images trying to locate a match for the genetic make-up of the virus Eir had spent two days trying to locate.

_“It changes,” Eir warned her. “That’s why it was so hard to isolate. I’ve never seen anything like it.”_

_“Don’t you ever get sick?”_

_Eir turned her gaze on the image, her face grim. “Not like this, Lady Jane, not like this.”_

Jane stared at the image glowing before her; Eir had included all of the variations she’d located, tentatively labelling the strongest as the parent. It _looked_ evil, spiky and twisted and glowing the colour of contaminated blood; pulsing, mutating, so that some of the variations looked nothing like the parent all. 

She bit her lip and put her head down on top of the book she was attempting to read. How long had she been at this? Loki joined her in the evenings, after he was done with the business of the kingdom and had visited Thor; she wanted to know what they talked about, but she suspected Thor wouldn’t say anything even if he had the strength and trying to pry anything out of Loki was like hitting a brick wall with a dessert spoon. 

The whole court – hell, maybe even the entire kingdom – was still reeling over the deception and for a heartbeat Jane had been afraid civil war would break out on top of the plague. But Thor had spoken to Sif and Fandral and Heimdall and the others and once a small adjustment to Odin’s resting place had been made, things continued exactly as they were.

And despite Sif’s arguments and dark predictions, everything was…fine.

Which, Jane found, didn’t surprise her at all. 

The door to the library opened softly then closed again. Without a word, Loki walked over to the table and dropped into a chair, Gungnir clattering to the floor. “Have you found anything?” 

Jane raised her head. “No.” 

“Why not?” he demanded, his eyes narrowed to slits. “It’s been three days since Eir found this—this _thing_ and—”

“I’m an astrophysicist not a biologist,” Jane snapped. “And maybe if I had some _help_ —” 

“Do you think the kingdom will run itself? Do not think me remiss, Jane Foster. My brother is—”

“You think I don’t _know_ that? You’re not the only one who’s scared, dammit.”

He stared at her, his green eyes wide in a face that looked young and lost. She turned away, feeling uncomfortably as though she had seen something he was trying to hide. _Jekyll and Hyde or just somewhere in between?_ She fiddled with the pages of the book in front of her. “He wouldn’t want us to fight,” she murmured.

Loki’s mouth twitched. “Well, he wouldn’t exactly be shocked.”

She smiled wryly. “No, he wouldn’t.” She shoved a book at him. “Here. I can’t read this one so I saved it for you.”

He reached for the book with pale hands. “You are too kind.” Then, so quietly she almost didn’t hear: “Thank you.”

~~~

They worked long into the night, scribbling notes on pieces of paper, checking and cross-checking references, crumpling up notes that were no longer useful and lobbing them at each other, comparing Eir’s hologram with ones so old they could only be coaxed to life after Loki had played with the mechanism. He had beautiful hands: long, slender fingers that moved with patience and care over the gears until the image sputtered reluctantly into being over their heads.

She didn’t know why she noticed his hands. She chose not to think about it, just as she chose not to think about the kiss she could still taste, and went on with her work. Eventually, in spite of her best intentions, she fell asleep.

When she awoke, she became aware of two things: Loki was gone and there was an emerald green cloak tucked around her. 

Massaging her neck, she straightened and looked blearily around the library. The vicious red hologram was still glowing in front of her and she scowled. _Damn you, why can’t we find you?_

She shoved the book that had served as a pillow out of her way. It slid across the edge of the table, knocking one of the holographic cubes onto the floor. It gave a protesting wheeze and flickered to life.

_You’ve **got** to be kidding me._

She gave a cursory glance at the text written below the schematic, snatched it up, and tore out into the hallway, the cloak fluttering to the floor behind her. She twisted through halls, past bewildered guards and tired servants and tapestries that whispered in her wake.

“I have it! Eir, I have it!”

She burst into the healer’s ward and stopped dead as everyone turned to look at her with red-rimmed eyes.

_No. Oh no, no._

She darted past them, down the corridor, whipped into Thor’s room—

_No._

Loki sat on the bed, cradling his brother in his arms. He rested his head against Thor’s, gold and raven intermingling, rocking back and forth slowly, eyes staring but not seeing. Eir stood to one side, silent tears streaming down her face.

“Loki?” she whispered. _He’s just sleeping. He’s just—_

Loki looked up at her, saying nothing. He didn’t need to. With infinite care, he lowered Thor onto the bed and stood. Turning back to his brother, he bent and pressed his lips to his forehead. Stepping away, he turned on his heel and left.

“Eir?” This was not happening. It was a nightmare, it had to be. Thor couldn’t be—

Eir shook her head, rubbing a hand over her eyes.

“No…” The world dropped out from under her and she fell to her knees, unable to stand. “No. Not him…” Her mother, her father, now Thor had left her. Why did the good always die too soon? Before you were ready to say goodbye?

“I’m so sorry,” Eir said, drawing the sheet over Thor’s face. Her hand rested on the prince’s forehead for a moment, then she came and crouched down before Jane. “You do know he loved you, don’t you?”

Jane looked at her dully, eyes burning. “Yes.” Was that supposed to make her feel better? 

Eir hesitated. “He was a good man, wiser than Loki made him out to be. He knew it wasn’t Odin. He also knew—”

“What?”

Eir stroked her face, reached out to take the cube. “Go and find Loki. You will need each other.”

“I barely know him.”

“You know him better than you think. Come, dear. On your feet.”

Numbly, Jane let Eir pry her fingers open and help her to her feet. She allowed Eir to guide her through the corridor, past the gazes of the healers and the dead and dying, though the smells of blood and sickness, and out into the main hall. “Find Loki,” Eir repeated. “Your work was not in vain.”

_Yes it was._

The doors closed behind her firmly and she looked at them, eyes soaking in the ancient carvings in the bronze, stories of miraculous cures, stories of those gone to Valhalla. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself and turned away, feeling like a stray goat now more than ever.

~~~

She found him where she had expected to find him: in the green room where they’d first spoken. _His_ room.

She shut the door quietly behind her, standing with her back to it, hands clutching the handle, eyes fixed on the man across the room. He sat against the far wall, surrounded by a million sparkling pieces of glass and shattered furniture. In his hands he clutched a stuffed bildshnipe, squeezing it tightly, blood oozing from scratches on his face and the backs of his hands. He stared at nothing, his face pale, his body shaking.

Jane bit her lip and turned. _Maybe this wasn’t such a good—_

“Stay. Please.”

She stopped, turned around again. Loki didn’t move. She waited.

He _screamed_. He dropped the toy he was holding and screamed again, his hands curling in rage, despair, hopelessness. Then he collapsed on his side, weeping uncontrollably. 

Without another thought, Jane went to him. She sat down beside him, her skirts cushioning her against the glass, and drew him close, one arm around his shoulders, the other stroking his hair as he shuddered against her. 

And then her tears started to fall.

~~~

The funerals always happened quickly out of fear of contagion and Jane had grown accustomed to seeing the boats glide out over the edge into space, the fiery arrows hit their mark, the glitter of soul-light as each of the dead found their way to Valhalla.

Tonight it was different.

She stood alone at the front, in a place of honour, watching as the boat bearing Thor’s body slid noiselessly through the canal. The sounds of crying and sniffling filled the air behind her and it made her furious. They mourned a prince, they mourned a “son of Asgard”, but none of them – barely a handful – had _known_ him, and the words of condolence she had received from every Tom, Dick, and Harry made her want to hit something. _You know nothing, any of you._

The boat shot out over the waterfall into the blackness of space. Slowly she turned and looked at the archer who stood at the mouth of the canal.

He stood tall and slender, carved from marble, dressed in shimmering emerald green and gold, his hair black as night and falling around his shoulders. In his hands he held a mighty bow carved with rune letters and – she squinted – a raven sitting on the handle of a hammer. He watched the boat as it sailed out into the stars and slowly fitted an arrow to the string. He raised the bow, pulled back his arm—

The arrow shot forth, whipping through the air as it burst into flame. It landed in the prow of Thor’s boat and in a moment the entire vessel was burning. Gold and silver sparks exploded, glittering as they rose into space, dancing and whirling and—laughing. 

That would be like him. Laughing that big, booming laugh that warmed her down to her toes.

She sniffed. She would not cry. Not here. 

Hastily she turned away and looked back at Loki, but he was gone. Then, a whisper of air and arms wrapped around her from behind. 

She buried herself in them as they’d buried themselves in each other that day in Loki’s room, falling asleep in each other’s arms amidst the destruction he’d wrought. They needed no words – what was there to say? – and they held on to each other long after Thor’s soul-light had vanished, long after the thousands of mourners had dispersed, leaving them alone at the edge of the world.

_~finis~_

**Author's Note:**

> I may *possibly* continue in this verse...I have a few images in my head, but for the present: thinkatory, I hope you enjoy this! Happy Starfrost :)


End file.
